“Carrie,” called Mawmaw. “Let’s go inside. This is my granddaughter, Ophelia, my namesake.”
Carrie returned Ophelia’s smile and timidly said hello as she followed the pair into the Pine House.
“Ophelia, will you get us some sweet tea, honey?” asked Mawmaw.
Ophelia noted the calm and kind way Mawmaw spoke, an unusual tone for her. She was trying to put Carrie at ease and also get Ophelia out of the room for a moment. Ophelia understood. Carrie trusted Mawmaw, not Ophelia…not yet, at least. Attempting to give them more privacy, Ophelia took her time with the iced tea, carefully slicing the lemon and placing them on the edge of the glass like they do at nicer restaurants in New Orleans.
“Ophelia?” hollered Mawmaw. “Did you forget your way back to the living room?”
Well, that sweet voice of hers sure was short-lived.
Ophelia sashayed back to the living room while balancing the three glasses on a tray.
“Apologies for the delay, madam,” she said in a nasal-y voice with a horrible British accent. “Your tea.” Ophelia bent at the waist, offering her grandmother iced tea on a tray. Mawmaw snickered and grabbed a glass. Carrie followed suit, suppressing a smile.
“Now, I’ve explained to Carrie that I am no longer treating but that you are. She is open to you treating her, but she requires the utmost discretion.”
“Of course.” Ophelia nodded seriously. Confidentiality was something Mawmaw discussed with her. It was very important for Traiteurs to respect the privacy of those they treat, an unspoken rule of the trade, like not accepting money for service.
The three women stared at each other with discomfort, and Mawmaw pointedly looked at Ophelia as if to say, “You’re in charge now, go!”
Ophelia took a swig of her iced tea and set it on the side table in the living room next to Mawmaw’s recliner.
“Carrie, will you follow me into the treating parlor?”
The two women walked into the dark room. Ophelia felt an immediate change. Her senses were heightened. She could smell each individual spice of the incense in the room. The dust particles dancing off the sunlight in the room were more brilliant than ever. Ophelia brought Carrie to the side chair and asked her to sit. Ophelia went through the ritual of lighting the candles and calming her mind.
She pulled the extra chair toward Carrie and sat down so that they were facing each other. This was it. She was going to treat for the first time on her own. A rush of energy rolled through her.
“Carrie, how can I help you?”
“I…I…I have a UTI,” whispered Carrie.
“Oh, okay. Well, those are super common and easy to treat with over-the-counter medicine. How long have you had it?”
“A week.” Carrie looked so ashamed, and Ophelia couldn’t fathom why. It was just a UTI.
“Carrie,” said Ophelia gently. “It’s okay. It’s truly nothing to be embarrassed about. Women get UTIs all the time. You can get them from not peeing after sex or holding your pee for too long, and some women get them easier than others. Just depends.” Ophelia shrugged. “I myself have had a handful of them.”
A sob burst from Carrie, and Ophelia’s eyes rounded in shock.Oh my God, what did I say?Carrie was heaving tears as she buried her face in her hands.
“Carrie, Carrie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
“No, no, it’s not you. It’s me. I’m a horrible, horrible person.” Snot dripped down her nose and sat on the bow of her lip, threatening to spill over.
“Shh…” Ophelia gently stroking Carrie’s arm to calm her. “You’re okay. You’re okay. We’re gonna get you all fixed up, okay. You’re not a horrible person. I can assure you of that.”
In truth, Ophelia didn’t know that, but she knew it was what Carrie needed to hear. Besides, Ophelia could feel the great emotional pain Carrie was holding by touching her arm. She also sensed a lot of physical discomfort. The poor woman needed help.
Ophelia grabbed a cloth from under the altar and offered it to her. Carrie graciously took it and wiped away her snot and tears.
“Carrie, let’s take one thing at a time. I’m going to treat you first, and then we’ll talk. Can I place my hand on your lower abdomen?” Ophelia scooted closer to Carrie, and the red-haired woman nodded, trying to stifle her tears.
“Okay, you good? I can start now if you’re okay with it?”
“Yes, I am. Go ahead.” Carrie was a brave, trusting woman. Ophelia knew in her heart she was not horrible.
Ophelia placed her right hand on Carrie’s lower abdomen and felt its soft swell. She closed her eyes, cleared her mind, andfocused on her own breath. Ophelia could feel her pain, but not in the literal sense like she did during the transfer. It was more like an empathetic feeling. A pull on her heart. An instinct that said when, where, and how this woman was in pain. The mild pain from the weeklong UTI was dragging on Carrie mentally and emotionally, but Ophelia knew enough to understand that something else was going on. However, she proceeded with the treatment.
